


A Matter of Perspective

by orphan_account



Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: Angst, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-15
Updated: 2010-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not my fault they don't see it the same way I do. Insanity? Genius? What really separates one from the other? They just don't see.</p><p>JtHM drabble.</p><p>Rated for SWEARING and GORE. But should probably already be expected in this fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Perspective

**Started:** 9:34:23 PM 12/15/10

 **Author's Note:** A quick JtHM drabble as I try to finish up some work on my English homework. As we can all see, the homework bit got a little pushed back. Enjoy! And if you like what you read, take the poll on my profile.

* * *

Insanity was more of a certain breed of genius rather than a disability. Sometimes we fail to see that. I believe I may have done so, as well, after all this time spent in my own little fantasy. You see, I'm insane too. But I'm insane in a way people don't like. I'm not the breed of technological genius that means I obsess over all the gears that make contraptions tick.

Heh.

No, I already have a pretty good insight of how my little toys work.

I don't toil away for hours in hopes of creating something new, something useful, a work of art. That's all a genius really is, you know. Someone who can work around the preset confines binding them back. But there are plenty of those kinds of people out there. But they aren't considered insane. They're just weird. You're not considered insane until you really start to fuck with people. You don't just push the box, you light it on _fire_ and you keep stoking those flames _higher and higher_. For some reason this really pisses people off. But I've been doing that for years, so it's not so much of a surprise.

I want to watch this world burn.

This is why I know I'm insane.

I know things about people that most others don't pay attention to. I know more about the _sick_ side of their thoughts that they would likely try to hide away. Some deep dark pit in their soul, out of sight, out of mind. Why does that sound so familiar? It sounds so disturbingly close to home. I'm always in that dark realm where no one else dignifies to haunt with their sticking presence. A pariah.

A mutt.

Those goddamn people with their noses in the air. Why does my breed of insanity repel them? Because I look different from their shiny idols on billboard signs? They don't see just how worthless they all are. Not a single one of them has the right to look down upon me. I am not a _slave_ to them! I am a slave to _no one!_ If anything, they should be—it doesn't really matter. Their tiny little brains wouldn't even be _able_ to perceive the world as I do.

Fuck, I need to kill something.

But it suits me, being out of the limelight. I never really wanted all their attention. If I were always under scrutiny, I would never get away with the things I do. The things I am doing.

Their blood has such a cheerfully rosy hue, doesn't it? I would never touch the vile stuff, but it looks so pretty from this distance. All things do. Even though they're all just as polluted. Scum of the world, they all are. We all are. It's disgusting, I'm disgusting. But at least I see it. Shit, how could they not _see it_? That's why I'm different. I can pull back those pretty little fleshy disguises. Rip them and serrate them, until they are screaming at the monster they see in me.

Heh. Hehehe. Heheha _HA!_

At last, this is the moment in which I remove their blindfolds, allow these ignorant people to bask in the reaping glows of enlightenment. I watch their rising awareness as their lives begin to fade. In these final moments, they join me in the insanity they feared and resented. Some never make it to this level. They are snuffed out of existence and forgotten; their downfall being their own insolence. Serves them right, though. They didn't fucking _deserve_ this. I try, but it's not my fault if, in the end, they refuse to see. Sometimes I don't give them the chance. Most of the time they're too damned from the start.

Could matter less to me.

They use the term _insane_ like it were an insult. I _am_ insane. I know it. Somewhere along the line I got fucked up in the head. There are days when I can't stand it, and some when I embrace it. But I'm not disabled, not in any way hindered by the knowledge I possess. I am just out of place in a world that cannot hope to understand. I'm going to keep trying. One of these days, they will _see_ just what I've seen all along.

Or they will die. I'll see to it.


End file.
